Pete's Expert Summary
My human, in their infinite and often baffling wisdom, has procured a small, plastic rectangle from a company called "Educational Insights." Apparently, it's a handheld "game" that mimics some loud television show they watch. It flashes, it beeps, it makes entirely unnecessary whooshing sounds. From what I can gather, it's designed for them to poke at and solve word puzzles, a task for which they seem to need electronic encouragement. For me, it possesses no redeeming qualities. It cannot be chased, it is not filled with salmon, and its hard plastic shell offers none of the satisfying shreddability of a good cardboard box. It's an object destined to occupy my human's thumbs, a noisy and distracting paperweight that will likely interrupt no fewer than three of my scheduled naps today.
Key Features
- Spin the wheel! This electronic, handheld game for kids and adults is just like the TV game show; spin the wheel, guess letters, and solve 300 puzzles for kids, teens, adults, and seniors; entertaining travel game for all ages
- 300 Wheel of Fortune Puzzles: Solve puzzles in two game modes: Classic and Toss Up; perfect for people who love word games, brain games, and puzzles; educational game for kids and adults
- Sound effects from the show: Electronic game features sound effects, phrases, and audio just like the show (includes mute option); solve puzzles from categories like Phrases, What Are You Doing?, and more; get the game show experience with a handheld game
- Electronic game features: Two game modes (Classic and Toss Up), 300 official Wheel of Fortune puzzles, portable design for on-the-go play, and lights and sounds from the show; for 1 player or team, ages 8+; Requires 3 AAA batteries (not included)
- Perfect gift for everyone: Educational Insights toys and games make the perfect birthday gift for kids, teens, and adults, gift for the holiday, or back-to-school present for teachers and classrooms; perfect gift for fans of Wheel of Fortune show
A Tale from Pete the Cat
The thing arrived in a box far more interesting than its contents. I gave the plastic slab a cursory sniff; it reeked of a factory floor and the faint, sad smell of batteries not included. The human, whom I shall call The Provider for the purposes of this narrative, fumbled with a small door on its back and inserted the power cells. With a press of a button, the device screamed to life with a blast of tinny, triumphant music. "WHEEL! OF! FORTUNE!" it declared. I flattened my ears and retreated to the arm of the sofa, my silken tuxedo bristling with indignation. It was an auditory assault, an electronic offense against the peace of my domain. For the next hour, The Provider was mesmerized, their face illuminated by the gaudy, flashing lights. They squinted, muttered letters, and occasionally groaned in frustration. I had already dismissed the object as yet another monument to human folly, a distraction from their primary duties of can-opening and chin-scratching. I was mid-groom, meticulously attending to a stray bit of fluff on my shoulder, when a new sound cut through the cacophony. It was a rapid, precise, and utterly captivating *tick-tick-tick-tick-tick* that crescendoed into a soft, final *ding!* My paw froze mid-lick. My head snapped up. What was that? It was the sound of a thousand tiny claws scrabbling for purchase behind the wall. It was the frantic, desperate clicking of a June bug's legs against a windowpane. It was the promise of a hunt, a sonic ghost of prey that my every instinct screamed to locate and neutralize. The Provider, lost in their "What Are You Doing?" puzzle, triggered the sound again. *Tick-tick-tick-tick-ding!* I slipped off the sofa, my body low, a silver-gray shadow against the rug. My eyes, wide and black, were locked on the plastic noisemaker. I stalked it. Every time The Provider’s thumb hovered over the "Spin" button, my muscles tensed. The obnoxious jingles and the disembodied announcer were now just static I had to endure for the sweet, maddening reward of that spinning wheel. My tail, a feathery barometer of my intent, twitched in perfect time with the ticking. I didn't want the toy. I didn't care about the lights or the "Toss Up" mode. I cared only for that sound, a digital siren's song that spoke directly to the ancient predator deep within my soul. The device itself is a piece of worthless junk, but the phantom beetle it keeps trapped inside? For that, I will watch. And I will wait.
